


Extent

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 09:28:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21241868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Lindir questions if Erestor’s going easy on him.





	Extent

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The door opens, and footsteps cross the threshold—Erestor doesn’t so much as lift his head. He knows well enough by now the sounds of every member of his staff, _especially_ his young assistant, and he has every piece of Lindir memorized. He recognizes the careful footfalls and nervous breath. Lindir’s scent is subtle but charming: always a pleasant addition to Erestor’s stuffy office. 

Lindir stops before his desk and asks, “Might I speak to you, Erestor?”

Erestor’s hands don’t slow. He’s writing out a letter to Lord Thranduil—their trade agreement is undergoing minor changes. Erestor’s eyes follow the forming letters as he answers, “Of course.”

There’s a pause before Lindir answers: something noteworthy in itself. They exchange words often, all throughout their job; there’s no longer need for hesitation. 

Then Lindir quietly adds, “It is of a personal nature.”

The quill pauses. Erestor finally glances up. Predictably, Lindir’s pale cheeks are awash with colour. ‘Personal’ matters have always been difficult for him. Erestor gestures with his hand, signaling for Lindir to speak his peace. 

Lindir licks his bottom lip. He glances at the floor and slowly explains, “I... have overheard something of interest to me. I apologize—I know that it is woefully inappropriate, and I promise that it was not my intention to listen in. Nevertheless, I learned of some of your past... decisions...”

Solely to speed up the conversation, Erestor provides, “You have heard my former partners speaking.”

Lindir nods. He still won’t meet Erestor’s eye, which is expected; he’s a terribly shy creature. It’s not something Erestor ever thought he would find himself attracted to, but Lindir is also incredibly intelligent, artful, and, most importantly, a hard worker. Erestor admires those qualities, so he suffers Lindir’s innocence. A long, steadying breath, and Lindir says: “You have held back with me.”

“I have,” Erestor agrees. Lindir’s frown twitches, as though he’d expected Erestor to deny it. Erestor doesn’t.

“Why?”

Erestor lifts one dark brow, though Lindir still isn’t looking at his face. He would think the answer should be obvious. “You are delicate, my Lindir. I treat you gently for it.”

Lindir’s face scrunches up. It’s a cute look on him, though that prettiness only bolsters Erestor’s point. Eyes on the floor but posture straightening, Lindir says, “I can handle the full brunt of your interest.”

Erestor smiles. He nearly chuckles. Lindir most certainly _cannot_ handle a warrior’s full strength. Though Erestor has retired to a clerical life, certain prowess and ferocities have never left him. But he knows Lindir is a daydreamer, prone to fantasies beyond his true desires, and he will need to be shown, not told. 

Erestor stands. Lindir’s breath audibly hitches. He all but trembles as Erestor strolls slowly around his desk. 

Then he grabs a chunk of Lindir’s brown hair, so swift and harsh that Lindir has no defense. He cries out in pain as Erestor bends him back, tugging just enough to make it sting. He’s still holding back, but he shows enough to let Lindir taste the darker side of him. 

Bit by bit, Erestor forces Lindir down. Lindir’s knees buckle, and he falls to them, gasping. Erestor gathers more hair to use like a harness, tangling and knotting the silken strands. He holds Lindir in place, forcing him to stay on the floor. Erestor’s other hand dips down to trace Lindir’s soft face. He cups Lindir’s chin and strokes his cheek, murmuring, “You are so sweet, my Lindir. ..._Stay_ sweet.”

Lindir looks up at him through almost entirely dilated pupils. They’re thick with _lust_, but also fear—it’s such a small gesture, but it’s already more than Lindir can take. Erestor thought as much. 

He bends down to press a chaste kiss against Lindir’s forehead. Then he lets go all at once—Lindir makes a sharp noise of pain and discomfort. Erestor ignores it. He returns to his desk and takes his seat. Dipping his quill in ink, he returns to his letter.

He doesn’t look up again. He tells his lover, “If you require further proof, I will provide it tonight, and by tomorrow, there will be no more talk of this.”

Lindir doesn’t argue. He takes a long moment to get back onto his feet. Then he shakily bows and leaves.


End file.
